


Vestiges

by plentyofmalk



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Coda Challenge @The FitzSimmons Network, F/M, Post 4x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plentyofmalk/pseuds/plentyofmalk
Summary: My contribution to the 4x07 coda pieces out there. FitzSimmons awake the next day in their new apartment and talk about last words.





	

When Fitz comes to in the morning, it’s due to the unfamiliar sensation of sunlight beating against his face. There’s also a kink in his neck and the sensation of a cool draft skimming the bottom of his feet. When he finally opens his eyes, he realizes why.

He’s laying on the floor of his and Jemma’s apartment living room floor, the bedding they took from their room at the base draped haphazardly over them, and laying atop a Shield-standard sleeping bag. That was to say, terribly thin and no different than if they had slept directly on the hardwood beneath. But by the end of yesterday, they both agreed there was no way in hell they were spending another night on the base, even if it meant living like squatters until they could have proper furniture delivered. 

Lifting his head up just enough, he can see where his feet stick out at the end, the sheets skewed away from him just enough by the person laying next to him. On her side and facing away, he can tell she’s awake. Her hair falls in waves that catch on the fabric of her (his) old t-shirt, and she’s propped up just enough that he can see the arm she’s supporting herself with falter every so slightly in time with the shake of her shoulders. It hits him suddenly that she’s crying, and he feels the sleep melt off of him in an instant.

“Jemma? Jemma, hey, what’s wrong?” It’s a loaded question and he knows it, but besides scooting behind her with her back pressed against his chest, weaving one arm under hers to wrap protectively around her middle, it’s his only other instinct. It doesn’t seem to solve the problem, though, as the action only causes a deep sigh and a sniffle from her.

Using his free hand, he pulls at the collar of her shirt and presses a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, noting the stiff muscle underneath. Besides leaning into him ever so slightly, she gives no other indication that she’s heard him.

“Talk to me now, yeah? I...” When his eyes look down, he realizes what has her so upset.

She’s focused intently on her phone. More specifically, the transcripts of one of the numerous voicemails he’d left her the day before. _‘Look, Jemma, I know you’re mad, but __ _ are and May says she doesn’t know either and just please call me okay? Even if it’s just to yell I would _________ ____ _ love you.’_

He swallows hard, remembering the slowly bubbling panic buzzing through him when he left that message. But seeing her broken up over it gives a new twist to his stomach, so he offers a soft _‘hey’_ and he reaches to move the phone from her hands.

Finally, she comes to.

“No!” She says, clutching the phone securely to her chest. “I thought this might have been all I had.” At his inquisitive look, she continues. “When they finally told me what happened, they still didn’t know-- _I didn’t know_ \-- if you were back. And then they let me have my phone back and I saw all your messages and I… Fitz, you have to know that I…”

“Hey, hey now, shh,” he assures her, rolling her onto her back so that he can hover over her. He places a palm along her cheek, using his thumb to swipe at an errant tear before it can reach her hairline. “I know you wouldn’t have done that. I was just scared, is all. No one knew where you were. And then to hear that Mace didn’t even know where he sent you off to…”

Finally, she rolls her eyes, and a part of his heart feels a little less tight. “Right, you’re zapped into another dimension facing imminent death, but I get sent off to a secret location with a bag over my head and _that’s_ what you get indignant about.”

Fitz lifts his head from where he’s been nuzzling her neck, feeling the soft vibrations of her speech against his cheek. “A bag over your head? The rat bastard- you didn’t tell me that part.”

“Fitz!” She pulls him down with his chin cupped in her hands and seeks out his mouth. The kiss is both hungry and sweet, deep pulls mixed with soft hands and quiet assurances.

They stay that way for several moments, before Fitz turns onto his back and pulls her along with him. She wedged one leg in between his own, briefly running along his arousal but going no further. Jemma pulls back with a sigh.

“I don’t know what I would have done if that was the last thing I had left of you.” She shares, looking over briefly at her phone. She collapses then, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss over Fitz’s heart before resting her head in its place.

They lay in silence for a moment, and he suspects she’s measuring his breathing as much as he’s measuring hers. He weighs what he wants to say carefully before speaking, choosing to.

“ _‘Discovering the purpose of an object of this nature is what makes working for Shield so important.’_ ”

He feels her head shift against his chest, confused.

“When you,” Fitz exhales a shaky breath to center himself, “when the monolith took you, I poured over the notebook you were writing in.”

“Fitz.” She pushes up against him with one hand. He revels in the feeling of her hair skimming his skin and presses on.

“There wasn’t much there, seeing as we hadn’t even had a full day with the bloody thing, but your observations were… Jemma, they were so optimistic, because that’s who you are. And to think about how excited you were, to read it over and over, and then watch the video footage of that room, not knowing if you were dead or alive, or trapped? I couldn’t sleep, it made me sick.”

“Oh, Fitz, you...” She looks at him with empathetic eyes, tearing up again. 

“But now that’s just a notebook, yeah? And those messages are just messages. We have to remember that, or we’ll miss _this_ ,” Fitz emphasizes, reaching for her hand, “because we’re too occupied with what could have been the last pieces or each other.” He finishes with a smile, running a hand through her hair to tuck a strand behind her ear. He’s pleased to see that Jemma’s tears have taken on new life, no longer sad, but hopeful. Before Fitz can process, she leans down and kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose, before finally landing on his eager lips. If possible, she presses her weight down on him closer, so that they are pressed toe to toe and chest to chest. Her thigh brushes against where he’s still half-aroused, and this time she does not pull away. He can feel her smile against his mouth in response to the involuntary thrust of his hips.

“When did you get so wise, Dr. Fitz?” She asks, knowing full well what calling him that does to his ability to respond, especially in such close proximity while wearing practically nothing.

He runs both hands under her shirt, holding her to him and skimming from her waist until just under her breasts, then back down (because he knows full well what that does to _her_ , and that’s only fair). “Found that whole thing written in a fortune cookie once, believe it or not. Seemed oddly specific, but I can’t say it didn’t come in handy just now.”

The smugness Fitz feels lasts only a moment, before burning out quickly with a choked moan as Jemma wraps one delicate hand around him through his shorts. Her laughter splashes out over his cheek.

“Shut up and help me create something else to remember you fondly by.”

_____________________________

Later, with chinese takeout littering the floor and Jemma situated between his legs, Fitz watches and runs his fingers along her arms as she deletes his voicemails one by one. He’s already promised to finally let go of the notebook of hers that still resides in their room back at the base.

And if they have to make a thousand more memories before the remnants of painful closes calls are erased, well, it’s one more challenge they look forward to facing together.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed, all mistakes are mine!
> 
> Find me on tumblr -- plentyofmalk :)


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